Silence in the Library
by ACtravels
Summary: Percy could call her a social recluse all he liked, but after he threw her and Oliver Wood together at that terrible party nobody could say that she wasn't a fine conversationalist. Penelope Clearwater/Oliver Wood
1. The Silence

It was times like this were Penelope Clearwater began to question whether she was actually one of _The Silence_ and everyone had just neglected to tell her (although, the more she thought about the logistics the more it seemed obvious that no one would tell her if she was one of _The Silence_, because everyone one simply forget to tell her). She had to admit that part of the isolation she now found herself within was due to her own doing – after the brutality of the war she'd needed to have a little space and in having a little space she'd accidently ostracised all her old Hogwarts friends and ended up, well, quite lonely.

Still, she'd vaguely assumed that if she showed up to the party (someone's twenty second, she couldn't really remember) that someone would talk to her. It was supposed to be a sort of Hogwarts-Reunion – otherwise she wouldn't have received an invite, no doubt – and she'd thought that she must have made enough impact on someone that they'd want to _reunite_with her. But, no, she'd spent the past half an hour hovering around on the fringes of the party clutching a glass of wine and feeling more and more obscure.

Every so often Percy Weasley would walk over and suggest that unless Penelope at least tried to talk to someone, then of course she was going to remain standing next to the bar until she eventually gave up and went home. This didn't particularly comfort her as, despite Percy's occasional self righteous attitude (and degree of pompousness), he was usually right about things – apart from when he was very, very wrong... but that was a period of Percy's life that they generally didn't discuss. Not that they discussed very much.

After all, she was a secret member of _The Silence_so naturally Percy would forget that she wasn't really in contact with anyone anymore, and thus forget that some communication wouldn't be totally an unreasonable feet – they were friends, after all, particularly so after the war.

At least no one was trying to kill her on sight.

"Penny," Percy said, wandering back over for the third time in –Penelope checked her watch – forty five minutes, "you'd be much happier if you just talked to someone."

"You could just stay and talk to me." Penelope suggested, fingering the edge of her wine glass hopefully – although Percy was hardly the don of social interactions, she'd look less of a chump standing around talking to her exboyfriend than she would standing around on her own. Realistically, both of them new that she wasn't necessarily bothered about it being his company – because she definitely saw Percy enough as it was (one lunchtime a week, they'd meet in the Leaky Cauldron), but the fact remained that she'd now been here for nearly an hour and no one had talked to her _but_Percy.

Percy did stay for about another five minutes, before the old Head Girl beckoned him over and Percy disappeared to go talk about something – probably about the Ministry, or she might be enquiring how his family was. A lot of people had done that since the war. She'd done that plenty since the war and had continually felt the need to chastise herself for being so insensitive.

Penelope settled back in her leaning position, using the top of the radiator to support herself. No one would notice the lack of dignity, after all – everyone would forget whatever she did when they looked away.

When she began to feel like her bum was beginning to burn, Penelope had more or less decided to give up on the whole affair and go home and save the reunions for another five years, when all the scars of the war had become less angry and she was less scared of speaking to someone for fear of getting nervous and asking after a dead relative.

"Penny, Oliver doesn't like parties much either." Percy said, gesturing to the burly form of Oliver Wood that followed Percy's wake, then Percy had disappeared again to continue talking _at_various people about his life. Percy, at least, was not one to be forgotten.

Penelope considered that she could have counted the number of voluntary conversations she's had with Oliver Wood on one hand (on one finger, more like), but given he seemed almost as bored as she did she didn't really care about social etiquette – if only someone were to talk to her, she might be able to convince herself that she was not, as all the evidence seemed to suggest, one of _The Silence_anymore than she was the life and soul of the party.

"Oliver Wood." Penelope said, assessing that his appearance hadn't changed much. He'd gotten, if it were possible, more muscley since she'd seen him last but given last she'd heard he been signed by Puddlemere, that didn't surprise her all that much. "Let me guess," Penelope said upon seeing Oliver's brow creasing slightly, "you don't remember me?"

"Hold your bludgers, Clearwater," Oliver said, "I was just thinking that I hadn't seen you for a while."

"Well you've probably been busy."

"Not enjoying the party?" Oliver asked, taking the other half of the radiator to lean against and clutching his beer between his hands.

"Not really," Penelope admitted, "I tend to just sip my way through them." She said, gesturing at her still full glass of wine.

"First mistake," Oliver grinned, "at least gulp your way through them."

"Well, it's not like you're out there dancing."

"No," Oliver said, "but at least I'm drinking properly."

"I've got work in the morning." Penelope said, taking another self conscious sip of her wine and rolling around her glass – she didn't even like wine, it was just the sort of drink that she couldn't bear to drink fast. And she certainly wasn't going to buy herself another.

"You haven't changed much," Oliver grinned, "you know, the first time I remember you talking to me, Clearwater -"

"- you can call me Penny, or Pen or... whatever."

"– you were telling me to shut up in the library."

"You were talking pretty loudly," Penelope smiled, feeling a fair amount of surprise that Oliver had such an accurate memory, it was true that she'd shared classes with him for a good seven years –but they'd never really talked, "you were disrupting the working environment."

"I was telling Katie off about missing practice."

"Figures," Penelope said, "it's all about the Quidditch."

"All about the silence." Oliver countered, and Penelope decided not to voice how ironic his comment was.

"The books." Penelope corrected.

"Typical claw." Oliver grinned.

"Typical jock." Penelope countered, nodding towards his muscled arms and raising her eyebrows slightly. Oliver sort-of-smiled, and Penelope smiled in return – she hadn't expected to enjoy the conversation quite so much. Usually, in this sort of situation she would just talk at the other member of the conversation to avoid an awkward silence (which was why, in hindsight, her and Percy had been a terrible match from the word go – they both just_talked_), but Oliver Wood was turning out to be a much better conversationalist than she'd expected. They'd been to-and-fro banter and she'd _even_offered up her nickname.

"So, where do you work?" Oliver asked, leaning to the side so he could watch her reactions properly. "A library? It's got to be a library. You were born a Librarian, Penny."

"No," Penelope said primly, taking a defiant sip of her wine, "I am not a librarian."

"Ah... something radical and unexpected, then?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I work in a quill shop," Penelope admitted, feeling her lips pull into a smile as Oliver laughed at her, "Scrivenshaft's Quill shop."

"That is radical."

"Shut up," Penny grinned, "it's not like you're changing people's expectations of you."

"No," Oliver said, "not really."

"I spend my days testing out Quills and selling magical stationary," Penelope continued, "it's a wonderful existence."

"Staff discount?"

"Fifteen percent," Penelope said, finishing her glass of wine, "I think I spend half my wages every week on quills. They're like a drug to me. Is it amazing then, playing Quidditch?"

"Yeah," Oliver said, a strange expression clouding over his eyes – Penelope would have called it dreamy, but she was entirely sure that Oliver had never had a dreamy expression in his life; more a passionate glint, or a memory, "yeah, I love it."

"I bet you're a mess when you lose. Percy always used to say that you were impossible after losses, something about an absurd obsession and, well, I don't remember the exact words."

"I forget you used to date Percy," Oliver said, his eyes narrowing slightly, "that's strange," Penelope pursed her lips slightly. "I mean," Oliver continued hastily, "I never really understood it... its Percy, you know? Well... do you want me to get you a drink, Penny?"

After a second and a third drink, Oliver had suggested getting some fresh air and now the two of them had found themselves in the smoking garden.

"I'd have thought you'd like parties." Penelope said. She was moderately relieved that they were no longer standing inside, because he heat of the place had been beginning to make her feel sweaty and uncomfortable, with the added unexpected side effect of spending over forty minutes talking to Oliver Wood being people were beginning to start paying attention to her again.

"One thing wrong with parties," Oliver returned, "a distinct lack of Quidditch."

"You went to parties at Hogwarts." Penelope said: she remembered going to some of them and not going to others (particularly when she was dating Percy, because he'd never quite approved of the whole thing) and spending some of the time feeling out of sorts and awkward and some of the time enjoying herself.

"Victory parties, mostly," Oliver flashed her a grin, "no, it's just - I haven't seen everyone for ages. Just, Quidditch people really."

"Not used to the lack of Quidditch talk?" Penelope suggested, putting her hands in the pocket of her coat and trying not to breath in the smoke in the air. "Don't worry; I'm the same with quills. If they're not brought up in a conversation for more than ten minutes, well – "

"Silence in the library," Oliver grinned, finishing his drink – forth, fifth – and shaking his head at her, "that's what you said – silence in the library."

"Well, you told Katie Bell that you didn't care if she had detention for every second of her existence, providing she didn't mess Quidditch practice."

"People listened to me then," Oliver smirked, "I keep getting told off for trying to give people advice."

"People like you should never be put in positions of power," Penelope grinned, "you were _obsessed_."

"I was a great captain."

"You only won once."

"_Hey_, don't bring that up."

"I lost ten galleons."

"We should have won," Oliver said, "I can't believe we _didn't_win."

"Does that genuinely still upset you?" Penelope asked, setting down her empty glass (red current rum, this time) on one of the outside tables where the ash trays sat. "Oliver, seriously, are you still haunted by a Quidditch match from that long ago?"

"Who do you support, then?"

"Don't change the subject," Penelope smiled, seeing Percy Weasley glancing outside and seeing the two of them still together – she wondered if he was pleased, "are you honestly still bummed out?"

"You better support Puddlemere."

"I hear they have a good keeper." Penelope returned, leaning against the table and glancing that he other groups of people that lingered outside – she'd shared a dorm with one of the girls, and she hadn't know she'd taken up smoking. That bothered her slightly. Maybe she should have kept in touch.

"I could get you tickets." Oliver suggested, and for the first time it occurred to Penelope that, at some point, their conversation seemed to have turned to flirting.

"And go by myself? That'd be fun."

"Go with Percy." Oliver proposed forward, leaning on his elbow.

"Percy's the only person I see these days."

"Right." Oliver said, glancing at the group of people behind us and leaning away slightly. It crossed Penelope's mind that this might suggest, perhaps, that she and Percy were _together_in some way.

"No, I mean, I'm not very sociable. My social interactions just about stretch to my two work colleagues, my muggle flatmate Audrey and Percy. Coming here was like, well, a bit of a whim."

"And yet, you looked so talkative when you were brooding earlier."

"Hey," Penelope said, folding her arms and making a show of looking offended (now she'd realised they'd been very nearly flirting, it was difficult for her to get the idea out of her head), "I didn't think we were doing _so_badly."

"Thank Quidditch for Penelope Clearwater," Oliver agreed, "who saved me from brooding moodily in my own corner of the room."

"We might as well brood together."

"At least that's what Percy seemed to think."

"He's worried about me," Penelope confessed, "too much of a social recluse, in his eyes."

"Well," Oliver grinned, "we're not doing so badly, right?"

The party had now become so concentrated that several people had branched out and had actually began talking to Penelope and asking about her life (and Penelope rather thought that her replies were a great disappointment, although not altogether surprising), which unfortunately meant that people kept interrupting Penelope and Oliver mid conversation.

"We've become a hot commodity." Penelope commented, after Eden Dobs had disappeared to the bar to replenish her glass.

"It's the alcohol," Oliver returned, watching as the person who's birthday it was (a Hufflepuff that Penelope couldn't quite remember the name of) slowly degraded into gallivanting about telling everyone how much she loved them, "it makes everyone feel the need to be friends forever."

"Hey Oliver, let's be friends forever." Penelope said, holding up her third glass of Red Currant Rum with a raise of hey eyebrows.

"I can't believe we weren't all ready," Oliver returned, clinking his glass of ale, as it turned out to be, against hers and downing it, "really though, I swear I only ever talked to you in... transfiguration, was it?"

"And in the library," Penelope pointed out, grinning, "we should have talked before."

"Yeah," Oliver said, "I mean, this has been...pretty fun."

"I haven't gone home yet, so you're doing well."

"Good to know I've kept your attention," Oliver said, "but then I am a charming, Quidditch player."

"Hey, Penelope!" The Hufflepuff girl who'd turned twenty two and probably had a name said, clutching hold of Penelope's arms and squeezing them tightly. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"Me too." Penelope said, sending a look at Oliver that she hoped indicated that he was the reason she was glad she'd turned up (social interactions!), but as she was now more than slightly tipsy she suspected she'd just frightened him slightly.

"Happy Birthday!" The Hufflepuff said, releasing Penelope's arm as her best friend appeared to drag her way.

"Didn't know it was your birthday, Pen." Oliver grinned.

"What were you saying about being a charming Quidditch player?"

"You should come to our next match."

"I bet that's what you say to all the girls."

"Maybe," Oliver said, "but they can't get fifteen percent of at Scrivenshaft's."

"Hey Oliver," Roger Davis said – she remembered _his_name, Penelope would never forget her Quidditch Captain, after all – "Summers and I were gonna have a race. There's brooms round the back, fancy showing us how the professionals do it?"

Oliver glanced at her for a second, almost apologetically.

"Who am I to stand in the way of Oliver Wood's desire to fly," Penelope laughed, "you can buy me a victory drink when you've landed."

"Deal," Oliver said, pressing his empty glass into her hands before disappearing after Roger Davis, "five minutes – on my word."

Penelope waited for around forty five minutes, (twenty of those had been spent holding both hers and Oliver's glasses, before it occurred to her that she very much looked like an alcoholic and put both of them down), before she eventually gave up waiting. The Hufflepuff girl, whom Penelope had just remembered was called Emma Cadwaller, gave Penelope a sad little pat on the back as Penelope collected her coat.

Penelope re-concluded that she was indeed a member of _The Silence_, and that once again Oliver Wood had lost a perfectly good girl (well, maybe that was a little far – but she did have a staff discount as Scrivenshaft's and an impressive knowledge of Doctor Who) due to his love of Quidditch.

And, damn it, she'd wanted the free Quidditch tickets.

* * *

_This is chapter 1/5. It was written for Ariellem's 'nerd challenge' over on HPFF. I'm casually uploading more things due to revision-induced boredom._


	2. The Doctor

Penelope spent the first few minutes of the next morning searching for the spider that had been in her bathroom for the past week. She strictly abode by a live and let live policy (and she thought the Doctor would be proud) and she was more than happy to let the spider share her living space, providing it wasn't in her shower in which case she snuck into her flatmates bathroom and showered there. Last she'd seen _the spider _had been by the sink and as she couldn't currently locate it, she thought it was best to be safe than sorry and made the mad dash towards the other bathroom.

When Penelope finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in one of Audrey's nice towels and feeing the edge of her slight hangover slipping away slightly, she was rather taken aback to find that Percy Weasley was casually having breakfast with her flatmate, both of whom seemed to be rather enjoying themselves making fun of her_slight_dislike of spiders.

"_Percy_?" Penelope questioned, stepping into the kitchen and watching as his ears turned slightly pink – whether that was because he'd just turned up where she lived or because she was clad in only a towel Penelope couldn't quite be sure, either way she'd always found Percy's blushing amusing.

"Ah," Percy said, deliberately looking at his toast, "I just wanted to ask how it worked out with Wood? I left before either of you and..."

Penelope was torn between finding his dedication to her social life endearing and very annoying, which was a position she'd been in many a time before as far as Percy was concerned.

"Wood?" Audrey asked, a frown line forming on her forehead.

"He's this guy who we used to go to school with," Penelope said distractedly, placing a few slices of toast in the toaster before turning back to where Percy and Audrey sat at the table, "Oliver Wood. Big on sports. And he left, actually."

"You sound disappointed." Audrey said, glancing at Percy out of the corner of her eye.

"Rude more than anything," Penelope muttered under her breath, "taking off like that..."

"Well, okay," Percy said, setting down his cup of tea and nodding distractedly, "just thought I'd check. Well, no use disturbing you anymore. Thanks for the tea, Audrey." Then he bustled out of the room in that usual fashion of his. Penelope watched his retreating back feeling slightly amused, not least because his muggle attire always looked plain odd, but mostly at the idea that Percy Weasley seemed to vaguely be attempting to play _matchmaker_in her life.

"There's always the next reunion," Audrey said brightly, her gaze fixed on the seat Percy had vacated before shaking her head slightly, "so, what actually happened to worry Percy so much?"

"Oh," Penelope said, buttering her toast and taking a seat, "nothing really. We just talked for a bit. Nothing to get excited about. Then Oliver took off and... that was that."

"I'm late." Audrey said suddenly, tipping her plate and the mugs into the sink before grabbing her coat.

"You didn't have to babysit Percy, you know," Penelope said thoughtfully, "you should have just left him to his own devices – stupid git."

"Oh no," Audrey said, looking slightly pink, "it's fine. Are we still meeting for lunch?"

Penelope nodded and watched as Audrey took off too, the lock clicking in her wake.

She'd found living with a muggle was quite a strange experience. Audrey was a student whose intended flatmate had failed to get into the following year of the course and had been desperate to find anyone to split the rent with, as she most definitely couldn't afford the London rent on her own. The fact that she was doing some difficult science course thankfully meant that she usually left before Penelope and arrived afterwards, which meant that Penelope could slip on her robes and apparate to the shop rather than endure the dreaded muggle commute.

It was good of Percy not to turn up in his robes.

Penelope made herself a coffee and glanced at the oven clock. She was late too, but she never functioned particularly well when she was tired and usually there weren't that many people falling over themselves to buy quills on a Friday morning.

Then again, stranger things had happened. Yesterday she'd been sort-of-chatted-up by Oliver Wood so she couldn't exactly trust any of her preconceptions about the world. She was half tempted to start a mental mantra of '_don't blink'_just in case.

"How was work?" Audrey asked, taking a chip from her plate and popping it in her mouth.

"Nearly brought another fancy pen." Penelope returned, looking at her mildly unappetising bacon sandwich and forcing herself to push onwards. She could never decided whether she was the hungry sort of hung over or the don't-eat-you'll-vom sort of hung over.

"Is that... is that Percy outside?" Audrey asked, glancing over Penelope's shoulder and squinting towards the door.

Penelope was slightly surprised that Audrey recognised him due to the few times they'd actually met, but upon turning around in her chair was forced to admit that, yes, Percy was actually stood outside the door of the mostly-student-populated cafe in another slightly strange muggle outfit beckoning at her.

"Wow," Penelope muttered, "he needs to take his job more seriously."

"He's... very persistent." Audrey commented.

"If I ignore him, do you think he'll go away?" Penelope asked, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet – risking another glance towards the door and feeling utterly perplexed. Yes, Percy and her were on good friendship terms, but showing up twice unannounced was just a little odd really.

"He's quite dedicated to your cause." Audrey said.

Penelope grabbed her handbag and slipped out of the cafe, giving Percy a questioning look.

"What are you doing?" Penelope asked. "Does the Ministry employ you to stalk me now?"

"Oliver didn't just take off," Percy said, pulling out a copy of the prophet, "he got in an accident."

"_What_?"

"Drunken Quidditch accent? He's in St Mungos."

"Why are you telling me things?"

"Penny," Percy said, "you haven't talked to anyone but me and Audrey for about a year. I don't want you to write of socialising because Wood can't fly properly when he's smashed. So just, think about it Penny."

"I wish you'd quit worrying about me," Penelope said irritably, shoving her hands in the pockets of the jeans she'd changed into before joining Audrey for lunch, "well, I'm going to go visit him."

"What?" Percy asked, taken aback.

"Yep, I'll go now," Penelope said determinedly, "thanks for letting me know, Percy."

"What about Audrey? You can't just flake out on her."

"_You_go have dinner with her," Penelope said, "I'm not a social recluse, Percy Weasley, so stop trying to fix my life."

And her exit would have been quite dramatic if she hadn't gone in the wrong direction to St Mungo's out of habit and had to double back, not quite missing the fact that Percy was shaking his head at her, looking quite amused.

Penelope was beginning to realise exactly how crazy it was to turn up at St Mungo's to talk to someone who, realistically, had only every spoken to her when they were drunk at some awkward school reunion because they were both too antisocial to talk to anyone else. They had been pushed together by a mutual friend – worse for her, an ex-boyfriend – and had struck up conversation to avoid things becoming even more awkward.

In fact, she'd just about talked herself out of visiting Oliver and lying about it to Percy later and was about to stop and do a U turn and exit the ward before she could do her ego anymore damage, when she realised that she'd stop directly in front of Oliver Wood's bed.

"You were going to leave," Oliver commented lightly, "and I was just looking forward to a visitor that wasn't pissed off at me."

"You say that," Penelope said, turning left and conjuring up a seat, "but you owe me a drink, Wood."

"Damn Ravenclaws," Oliver commented, "always remember stuff."

"Are you okay?" Penelope asked. "Percy stalked me to tell me you were in here. Still awfully worried about my social life."

"Hmm," Oliver said, "broke my leg in a couple of places."

"Oh," Penelope said, shifting in her seat slightly, "I should have brought you some grapes or a quill or something."

"I'm out for the season," Oliver added irritably, "ruddy Healer said I can't play, in case I fall off again and do some permanent damage – something about the muscle work, I don't know. Then I had the Captain round here having ago at me for being an idiot."

"Crap," Penelope said, "it's that bad?"

"No, I'm fine!" Oliver continued. "It's just bad press to have Quidditch players on broom when they're drunk. Apparently it sends off a bad image."

"I hadn't thought about that."

"Sorry," Oliver sighed, "I shouldn't rant at you. It's my own fault."

"It's okay; I'll just add it to the list of things you owe me," Penelope said lightly, "a drink, Quidditch tickets, a rant... So, Oliver, do you normally get drunk and fall off brooms? Because I had been expecting something a little more impressive."

"No," Oliver said, his face still set on brooding and moody – Penelope was quite sure that she could strip off and dance around naked and it wouldn't change his mood, because he always been so very Quidditch obsessed, "_so stupid_."

"Who'll be playing Keeper then?" Penelope asked, resigning herself to a conversation entirely revolving around Quidditch.

"The reserve."

"Oh, that's not too bad," Penelope said, pausing when Oliver looked up at her sharply, "he's not terrible, but he's not half as good as you. So, Puddlemere won't fail dramatically but it'll still remind everyone that you're the better player. Come on, Wood, pull yourself together – it might even be good for your career, in the end. Every player needs a few dark spots on their Quidditch history. Just don't marry important people from the Ministry and then cheat on them with a reporter from the Prophet."

"Hmm," Oliver said, looking up at her with a raise of the eyebrows, "I suppose you might be right."

"Just get yourself some good press. Take some nice homely girl who, I don't know, works at a Quill shop or something to the Quidditch match that you owe her anyway."

"Homely?" Oliver asked, looking distinctly amused and a slightly more cheerful.

"Well," Penelope said, "I like books. Seriously, it's not that big a deal. So you fell off a broom when drunk? It's pretty funny, if anything."

"Davies beat me," Oliver admitted, sitting up in his hospital bed, "he must have drunk less, or something but... he was _actually_beating me."

"Ah," Penelope said, "so it wasn't an accident. I know it's hard Oliver, but throwing yourself off a broom isn't the answer – "

"I thought you had work today," Oliver interrupted, "or was that just one of those girl excuses?"

"No, I do. I'm on my lunch break. I went to me my flatmate for lunch and then Percy showed up out of the blue throwing a prophet in my face. Sorry if was a bit weird for me to just turn up like this, I was just trying to make a point..."

"That you can be sociable?"

"Yeah," Penelope said, "and we're not doing too bad, right?"

"Well it's certainly nice to have a visitor who hasn't turned up to yell at me," Oliver commented dryly, nodding to one of the get well soon cards with a poorly suppressed grimace, "one from my mother saying that she didn't realise I drank," Penelope made a sympathetic face, "and another from George, which had to be confiscated because one of the Healers had an allergic reaction."

"You're in contact with George?" Penelope asked, feeling her face burning slightly. This was largely why she'd avoided socialising for the most part – because she was absolutely terrible at dealing with grief and the fact that people she'd known fairly well no longer existed made her uncomfortable. It wasn't so bad with Percy because he knew she was hopeless at that sort of thing and forgave her tongue-tiedness that occurred whenever he mentioned his family, but with other people she simply didn't know what to say.

"He likes free Quidditch tickets," Oliver returned, "and he was on my team."

"What about the others? Katie Bell, was it?"

"I see them occasionally – mostly when they're trying to score free tickets to watch me play. Not that I mind, really. It's nice to have friendly faces in the audience when I mess up."

"I find that," Penelope said, "in Scrivenshaft's; If there's an old friend around when I accidentally sell someone incompatible ink, well, I never feel quite so embarrassed about the whole thing."

"I'll bet. Sounds traumatic."

"Pretty much." Penelope said, shrugging her shoulders slightly and smiling at him – she had missed conversation and, dare she say it, slight flirting. As much as she was used to existing in her small world where Audrey, Percy, and Mr Scrivenshaft were the only people she had to concern herself with (and her parents, of course) branching out wasn't as terrible as she'd thought.

"What's your flatmate like then?"

"Muggle," Penelope answered, "she's lovely. Very easy to live with. She's a muggle student – some sort of engineering, I think. I left her having dinner with Percy, so I hope she's okay. Percy can be a bit, well, I wouldn't label him a people-person."

"And he's worried about _your _social life."

"Says a lot, doesn't it," Penelope said with a face, "looks like your Doctor, sorry Muggle born habit, Healer's coming back. I should head off before he starts laying into you again. I don't want to witness the abuse."

Penelope always found Healers slightly disappointing – perhaps it was because, having never been treated by a Muggle doctor, she'd always assumed that they regularly appeared from the Tardis wiping off some strange space-gunk off their fancy suits, tweaking their respective bowties before talking very fast about exactly what was wrong with you. In comparison, Healers were quite a disappointment. Then again, anything was slightly disappointing when you were expecting _The Doctor_.

"I'll see you at the match on Saturday, then," Oliver said, "I guess I might as well take advantage of being out of action. You won't have to use those free tickets alone after all."

"Guess not," Penelope said with a small smile, "I might come visit again, Oliver. I appreciate the free stuff."

And with that she offered him a smile and then walked out feeling very much like she owed Percy Weasley a great deal. Maybe she'd find him a date and then they'd be even.

Either way, even walking into _The Doctor_ himself couldn't make this day _much _better: she was getting free Quidditch tickets and was, providing Oliver was true to his word, going to be accompanied to one of the games by one Oliver Wood.

Social recluse her arse.

* * *

_I was really surprised by the reaction to the last chapter! I wa]s honestly just uploading this on a bit of a whim and wasn't expecting much of a response. So thank you so much for that! As always, there's more up on HPFF so if you want to skip ahead try there or else it shouldn't take me too long for the rest to appear on here (exams = procrastination = lots of editing stories on HPFF and subsequently loading them here). Anyway, I'll shut up now. Thanks for reading :) _


	3. The Companion

Penelope had begun to realise, in the form of a rather vivid nightmare, that going to see a Quidditch match with Oliver Wood was not a good idea. The dream, she had to admit, had been rather eccentric and the result of drinking muggle alcohol with Audrey – that stuff always messed her up – but during the dream, they'd arrived at the match, Oliver had gotten mad at the reserve and started yelling things at the top of his voice. Then, when yelling wasn't enough anymore, he knocked one of the opposing players off his broom to demonstrate how things should be done and then started telling the Beaters what to do too, and in his Quidditch-mania he'd started using her as a bat. She'd woken up at the moment when Oliver had swung her by the legs in the direction of a very red, angry bludger. She'd been about to open her mouth to scream when,_ bam_, she'd woken up on the sofa and had to run to the toilet to quietly vomit in Audrey's bathroom (she still didn't know where that spider had gotten too, after all).

Although not so quietly that she hadn't woken up Audrey and one of her old school friend's who was sleeping on Audrey's floor.

But that had been a whole three hours ago, so Penelope was just about ready to put that behind her. She was on to a whole new humiliating scenario now.

"Look," Penelope said, hovering in the doorway of Percy's office feeling mildly uncomfortable, "I just need your advice for like _two _minutes."

"Why?" Percy said, busy writing some report about something that looked very dull with a substandard quill (incidentally not the one she'd brought him for Christmas – her effort really was wasted as far as Percy was concerned).

"You're male," Penelope said helplessly, taking a step further into the office and trying to avoid the gaze of the slightly creepy man Percy shared an office with, because he appeared to be sporadically testing out his ability to wink on her, "_and_, we used to date." She added, which had the desired effect of making the creep's eyes swap to Percy instead, and Percy's ears turning slightly red.

"Fine," Percy said, finishing his sentence with a full stop and an over exaggerated flourish, "but we're eating here."

"Okay." Penelope returned, feeling her stomach clench of the idea of facing the Ministry cafeteria – not least because the food was terrible. It was like trying to digest corrugated cardboard.

"So," Percy said, rather pompously pulling on his robes – new, Penelope noted – and straightening out the expensive material, "what's going on?" Percy was walking slightly in front, as he always did, and Penelope had to use the full extent of her long legs to keep up.

"I'm going to the Puddlemere game with Oliver." Penelope said, rather quickly.

Percy looked slightly amused.

"Like a date?"

"I don't know," Penelope shrugged, "I mean, it wasn't clarified... but, he's going to be impossible, isn't he? You always used to say how obsessed he was. And I don't think he's become any less so now he's gone Professional, like... he doesn't have any friends either."

"A perfect match," Percy commented, "so, why do you need me?"

"What do I_ do_?" Penelope asked, ringing her hands slightly.

"Go and watch some Quidditch," Percy said as they reached the cafeteria and he pulled out a tray for her, "I just wouldn't bother trying to keep his attention very much, because it won't work."

"Precisely," Penelope sighed, "I could turn up dressed as Gilderoy Lockhart and he wouldn't notice."

"You can talk Quidditch," Percy said as he ordered two burgers, "it won't be that bad."

"No, but... when we were dating, what did I do wrong?"

Percy handed over a couple of galleons and didn't answer until they were sat at one of the small tables over the far hand side of the cafeteria. "What did you do wrong?" He repeated.

"Yeah," Penelope said, "was I too talkative, or clingy or whatever."

"So this is a date," Percy said with a pointed eyebrow raise, "I don't know, Penny. You can't have been that bad or I guess we wouldn't still be friends."

"Suppose." Penelope sighed, taking a dismissive bite of her burger and trying to remember exactly how the relationship between her and Percy had worked; back then Percy had been ever so slightly more obnoxious (not that she'd minded, because she could understand the pressure to be different in such a large, notorious family) and she'd been, well, less of a social recluse for one, and bizarrely convince that once Hogwarts was over she was going to do something amazing with her life. She'd been obnoxious too (and she blamed being an over indulged only child for that one) and she could never decide whether they'd been more or less obnoxious as a couple than separately.

She remembered that Percy had been more keen on her at the beginning and she'd gradually got used to him and then started to depend on him. She still did, actually, it was just that there was a big ugly war, and graduation, and then all the business with Percy's family and it just didn't seem like a relationship anymore. Nothing dramatic. She thought she'd loved him for a little while but it turned out to be not the sort-of-love she'd thought it was.

"I'm probably not the best person to ask, anyway."

"I should try and find you a date," Penelope said cheerfully, "you don't want people to start accusing you of being antisocial."

Percy rolled his eyes at her.

"I brought a book with me," Penelope said as walked over to where Oliver was waiting for her, "so you don't feel bad about ignoring me as soon as the match starts."

"I wouldn't," Oliver returned with a half grin, "how are you?"

"Good," Penelope answered with a smile, "how's the leg?"

"Fine," Oliver said irritably, "thus making this completely unnecessary."

"Awh," Penelope said with a roll of the eyes, "you know how to make a girl feel special."

"Sorry." Oliver returned.

"Thought you said you weren't going to apologise." Penelope said lightly, hooking her arm round his and sending him _I really don't mind – feel free to put your foot in it as much as you like _look, which she'd rather perfected through looking in the mirror too often.

She'd woken up this morning feeling good. She didn't feel the usual urge to hide under her duvet and wait for Percy to turn up at her flat and knock on her bedroom door repeatedly until she got up and she even strode confidently into her bathroom and jumped in the shower, sans irrational thoughts about the whereabouts of a spider that had now been gone for over two weeks. She'd made Audrey a cup of tea and left it on her bedside feeling bizarrely cheerful and a little guilty.

She'd more or less concluded that her mood swings surrounding how she felt about this _sort of date _were probably more appropriate for something slightly more dramatic – like being sent to prison, or abducted by a man who travelled through time and space in a bow tie. Really, her drastic change in opinion from _dear Lord this is the worst decision I've ever made _to _I'm-so-excited-I-could-explode _(she tended to tone that one down before she voiced it – she didn't want to appear too much like a creep) was a tad over the top. Then again, she was a social recluse who worked in a quill shop... and she was going to a Quidditch match with a league-player.

And she hadn't watched any decent Quidditch for ages.

And Oliver was quite hot.

"If I do ignore you a bit during the match -"

"- I'll count my blessing that you're not detailing everything he could have done better." Penelope finished cheerfully.

"And if I detail everything he could have done better?"

"Then at least you won't be ignoring me."

"How very..."

"Amiable." Penelope finished, patting his arm a bit and rolling her eyes. She'd concluded that the best way to deal with the fact that she was following Oliver into his dreamland, whilst he was only permitted to watch rather than participate, was to remind herself that for today she was _companion_.

In true Whovian style for this date, or whatever it was, she'd be the glamorous assistant. It wouldn't be a mark of things to come. She'd walk to Gallifrey and back before she became anyone's arm candy, but for this once incident she'd deemed it prudent not to insist that adequate attention was sent her way. Or else live with the crippling disappointment.

For Oliver Wood, an ultimatum between Quidditch and anything else could only result in a Quidditch-victory (the only type of victory he was likely to care about, anyway).

"It's okay," She continued, "you can repay me the favour when we go Quill shopping together."

"Good." Oliver said, sending her an amused and slightly grateful look. Maybe he'd been worried about ignoring her in favour of Quidditch too. She didn't want him to regret inviting her (well, ish. She'd sort of invited herself).

"I think that, well, Puddlemere are going to win – I don't want you to throw me out of the box, after all – but that it'll be more of a come-back win, rather than an obvious win from the beginning."

"Jackson's on top form," Oliver countered, "he's good with early goals."

"Yeah, but the Teams dynamics changed slightly. Some idiot decided to drink and fly."

"Penelope" Oliver said, raising his eyebrows challengingly, "you really think you know more about the outcome of this match than I do?"

"You're biased," She returned, "and don't use the full Penelope. Penny is a perfectly acceptable alternative." She decided not to say out loud that Percy was the only one who bothered with the whole thing. She didn't think that was situation-appropriate.

"I'm still capable of being very, eh, subjective."

"Of course you are." Penelope said.

"I've been at all the practices."

"I read about the last couple of matches in the prophet. A late comeback for Puddlemere."

"I'm entirely in opposition."

"Not supporting your team just because they banned you for a couple of weeks? _Really_, Oliver."

"No, Puddlemere winning goes without saying. I reckon it's going to be a good start then tail off a bit, before Hudson catches the snitch."

"You're very much wrong."

"A bet, then." Oliver said, his lips twisting upwards slightly.

"Stakes?"

"You buy me dinner." Oliver grinned.

"Likewise." Penelope agreed, stretching out her hand to shake his. He didn't let it go after they'd shook on that. Penelope thought about this and decided that she was pretty much okay with that. Just about.

"Right," Oliver said, "let's watch some Quidditch."

"Sorry," Oliver said, "about ignoring you."

Penelope hadn't gone to a Quidditch match since Hogwarts (something which Oliver had send was scandalous) and she'd almost forgotten about the giddy adrenaline the game seemed to produce, or how it felt to lean forwards in her seat with her eyes wide and get lost in cheering. She'd had much more fun than she'd expected, despite the fact that Oliver's tight-lipped smile and intense gaze hadn't been directed at her for more than a couple of minutes.

"If anything, you were a distraction," Penelope countered, "did you see that goal?"

"-if he been hovering slightly further to the left –"

"-Oliver," Penelope interjected, "he was dead centre."

"Yeah, and the sun was shining at the wrong angle. If he'd been slightly the left he would have seen that he was bluffing, or at least he should have done – or he's a bloody idiot."

"Well, you still won," Penelope returned, realising suddenly that they'd been walking with their arms linked for a few moments without noticing, "and you won the bet."

"Of course I did," Oliver said, rolling his eyes, "why you thought you'd be able to compete against my Quidditch knowledge, I don't know."

"Who says I thought I was going to win? Maybe I'm just tricking you into having dinner with me." Penelope smiled, nudging Oliver with her arm slightly.

"I suggested dinner."

"Oh, right, you're tricking _me_ into dinner then." Penelope said, smiling as Oliver laughed. Penelope thought that Oliver had taken the regulation to the stands rather well, all things considered, and despite the steadfast declaration that if he'd been playing they could have won by at least forty more points, he hadn't been as whiny as she expected. "So, am I invited to the celebration?" Penelope asked.

"Am I invited to the celebration, is more the question?" Oliver asked. "They're all still pretty mad at me."

"I think we could gatecrash."

"I thought you didn't like parties."

"They're growing on me," Penelope countered as Oliver threaded his fingers through her own, "at this last party I went to, there was this guy I used to know."

"Really?" Oliver asked, looking slightly amused. The expression was rather adorable on him. He certainly looked more like the Oliver she remembered from her school days rather than the moody Oliver bed ridden in St Mungos.

"Yep and we talked for a bit about how we should have been best friends and what not, then he went and told me he'd be back in a couple of minutes and threw himself off a broom. That says a lot about my social abilities, I think."

"What would happened if he'd come back?" Oliver asked, pausing in their walk.

"For a start," Penelope said, "his team would have smashed today's match even more, but... what else? Who knows?"

"He was probably trying to show off, you know."

"He seems like that type of idiot," Penelope commented dryly, "the sort who's forget he's talking to a rather geeky, antisocial Ravenclaw who isn't usually over impressed by mad descents off brooms."

"You still came to visit me."

"Percy's fault."

"I'll thank him," Oliver returned, smiling at her slightly, "next time I see him."

"You should probably write to him," Penelope said, letting him thread his fingers through her, "he's a stubborn git and if he decides you're being antisocial, well, next thing you know you'll be going to Quidditch matches with international Quidditch players."

"Doesn't sound so bad."

"It was actually quite lovely." Penelope said, then Oliver reached forward and kissed her. And she kissed him back. And he curled one arm around her waist. And Penelope rather thought that Percy Weasley was a matchmaking-don and that next time she saw him she'd set him up with Audrey, or something, because she didn't know anyone else and quite frankly the man needed a girlfriend – anything to get him away from those god awful ministry reports. And butting into her social life... but that hadn't been so bad, really.

* * *

_Thanks so much for the reviews guys! This is part 3/5 ... so two more chapters to go :)_


	4. The Cyberman

There were quite a few things Penelope Clearwater liked about being Oliver Wood's girlfriend: he was rather beautiful, in almost all respects, and it was very nice that it was her prerogative to kiss him and what not, he didn't mind the fact that she was really quite boring (he'd actually laughed at her when she said she was boring and told her to shut up in a way that was rather sexy) he was usually quite punctual and she could now write it on her CV that a rather fuzzy picture of her had appeared in a copy of a Quidditch magazine that Percy had given her. Apparently George had seen it and found it very funny, passed it on to a bemused Percy, who had popped round the flat to give it to her and spent an unnecessary length of time with his cup of tea – which must have gone cold by the time he'd finished chatting to Audrey about Muggle politics.

These things were very much bonuses in life and she rather thought the relationship had progressed quite nicely since their first date. After which had followed a second date, a third date, a drunken letter (from Penelope, embarrassingly enough), a forth date, an argument about whose fault it was that their fifth date ended up with both of them turning up at the wrong place which ended up with Oliver staying over at her flat (scaring Audrey half to death the next morning), Penelope attending several more Quidditch matches, Oliver turning up in her lunch breaks to buy her burgers and quite a fair bit of snogging. Which was all very well and good. But then she'd been eavesdropping on one of Audrey's university friends rabbiting on about her boyfriend and she'd realised something very startling – their relationship was entirely superficial.

And now she couldn't get it out of her head.

It was like she was dating a cyberman who couldn't feel emotion. She'd ask him how his day was and mostly this would induce a rant about Quidditch – he was allowed to play again, now – some casual banter which usually referred to one of their many in jokes, a bit of light sexual innuendo and nice, safe conversation. Nothing emotional. Not a _I felt lonely today_or _I wish that we were back at Hogwarts, when everything was easier._

She thought those things. She definitely thought them, but saying them was an entirely different matter. Still, with Audrey's friend continual tirade of why exactly she was upset with her partner (apparently, there was a lack of empathy – she'd tell him about all the woes and hardships of her day, and he'd offer her a solution rather than emotional support) it had been difficult to shake the fact that perhaps Oliver and her should have_talked_about why they were such social recluses, or how hard it had been during the war.

The resulting letter to Percy had resulted in him turning up to her flat, forcing her to drink a cup of tea and_calm the hell down._Then Audrey and Percy had worked together to pick at Penelope's line of argument that the whole relationship was doomed. Before Percy, apparently quite offended by her circular reasoning, had said "_why don't you just break up with him then_?" and bustled out the apartment looking highly irritated.

"Well," Penelope said, looking gloomily at her cup of cold tea, "that went well."

"It's easily fixed," Audrey said, putting the kettle back on, "you don't have to break up with him."

"Maybe I should." She returned miserably.

"Just talk to him about it." Audrey suggested.

"Percy -"

"- well Percy's not exactly an independent party, is he?"

"What do you mean?" Penelope asked, tilting her head towards her flatmate and gratefully taking the second cup of tea.

"Well, he still likes you."

Penelope spat out the tea.

"_Likes_me?"

"He's always popping round here, especially since you've started seeing Oliver," Audrey said, "and he came to interrupt that meal and... always finding excuses to come over."

Penelope, who'd been quite preoccupied with the fact that she had a boyfriend, hadn't really noticed this exactly – but was now beginning to put together a few memories and realise that Percy really had spent and unnecessary amount of time at her apartment, as of late, sitting in her usual seat and casually sending condescending remarks her way as he chatted to Audrey. He couldn't possibly_like her_like her thought. That was so far in the past that even a TARDIS couldn't reach it (well, that was a_slight_lie: that TARDIS's powers were immeasurable and unlimited).

"Percy set me and Oliver up," Penelope countered, "gave me advice and stuff. Why I asked him for advice given he hasn't shown interest in anyone for about..." Penelope held her thought, pausing slightly as she looked at Audrey with a distinct feeling of _realisation_. "... ages, really." She finished abruptly, trying to hide the slight smile on her features.

"Oh," Audrey said, seeming slightly more cheerfully then renewed her vigour in trying to save Penelope from romantic ruin. This was very promising; there should be a great of comedic promise in this, Penelope decided, feeling rather more cheerful about the whole prospect of facing Oliver.

"So," Penelope said, feeling awkwardness creeping up on her again as she faced Oliver over a table in the pub, a place they often frequented because the meals were dirt cheap and the alcohol was practically free, "we, er, need to talk."

"Right." Oliver said, raising his eyebrows slightly and making no further comment. Already, Penelope was beginning to feel the premature regret that would no doubt hurt like a bitch when she'd inevitably screwed the whole thing up. It was bad enough that she was beginning to think about reconsidering and just letting the whole thing lie, resigning herself to dating an emotionless but rather attractive cyberman until the whole thing _slotted into place_(or did that only work in romance novels?). But, she'd already started now and even if she changed her mind Oliver had to ask what she was going to say... and if they were going to have this conversation then that might as well do it properly.

Penelope's opening line officially killed all conversation until after they'd ordered food which she thought was a damn shame, because their relationship had gotten to the nice point where they could see in an easy and comfortable silence or fill in the easy and comfortable silences with conversation – and, with one line she relegated them back into the zone of the a_wkward silence._

"What's up?" Oliver asked, finally, when their drinks had arrived and it seemed that Penelope had just lost the ability to speak – instead just sitting on the other side of the table growing increasingly flustered as she tried to work out how to phrase the problem without it sounding like she was going to break up with him.

Because she didn't think she was going to break up with him. Then again, she didn't think she'd start with the line 'we need to talk' so it seemed she'd transferred over to a strange autopilot mode where she no longer had control of what was happening.

"Emotions," Penelope said, rather articulately, "I mean lack of emotions... I suppose."

"Right." Oliver said again, his expression tightening slightly.

"I just, God, Audrey's bloody friend freaked me out, okay. I just think maybe we should talk about things more."

"Right."

Penelope silently decided that she was going to die.

"Like, not about Quidditch and quills. I mean, I like talking about those things... actually, no I don't. Talking about quills is bloody boring, but I like talking about them with you – but, erm, maybe we should talk about Hogwarts and Fred and being antisocial gits."

"Doesn't that sort of defeat the point?" Oliver asked, smiling at the waitress as she arrived with their food – the sort of pub grub that always came with thick cut chips – "talking about being antisocial?"

"I didn't use to be antisocial."

"I did," Oliver said, spearing a chip on his fork and taking a deliberately bite, "too single mindely focused on Quidditch. I'd haul myself up in my dorm working out more plays. Not that it did any good, I had the worst luck when it came to matches... I suppose that's actually why Percy and I sort of got on – single mindedness." Oliver ate another chip, chewing it thoughtfully. "This sort of talk on your mind?"

"Yeah," Penelope breathed, feeling her shoulders relax slightly, "I always wondered how you and Percy managed to be friends, you're pretty different. I guess I always imagined he pressed friendship upon you – Percy does that."

"Yeah," Oliver agreed, looking amused for a second, "Percy he's... he's pretty special."

"He's precious." Penelope agreed, beginning to eat her own food now it seemed the imminent train-crash of their relationship was just her imagination working in overdrive and creating problems where they didn't have to exist (exactly as Percy and Audrey had told her, only they'd been more colourful in their language about how stupid Penny was being). "You ever regret being a Quidditch obsessed git?"

"I didn't," Oliver said, "until the war."

"Ah."

"Then, well, I guess I thought I'd missed the point a bit... I mean, all the stuff that was going on – the chamber of secrets, Sirius Black in the castle... I only cared if it interfered with Quidditch. Harry Potter was just my star seeker and that was all that was important," Oliver looked up at her carefully, "then he goes and bloody saves the world and shoots my perspective to hell."

"Yeah," Penelope agreed, "that would do it." She leaned forwards in her seat, offering him a sympathetic smile. "I... I can't handle death," She admitted, feeling her shoulders hunch forwards slightly, "I... I just, I don't know how to act around people who are mourning. I just... I can't. I'm too scared I'll clam up or say something dumb."

"Hence, antisocial git?"

"Yeah," Penelope said, "George...I can't, God it's awful... every time I see him I think I'm going to call him Fred instead." The omission felt a lot like relief. Given her social interactions primarily focused around a muggle, who didn't know anything about magic or magical wars, and Percy – and she could hardly have mentioned_that_ to Percy – she'd never really had a chance to voice the complicated mess of feelings surrounding _the war._

"You weren't there at the end, were you?"

"No," Penelope admitted, "I was working at the Ministry... then Percy told me about them registering Muggleborns and told me to get the hell out of the country, so I... I left. You fought."

"I wasn't much use," Oliver said, "I'd have been more help if someone had given me a beaters bat."

"That would have been...quite something to see," Penelope smiled, shifting in her seat so that their feet were touching, "sorry," she added, "I shouldn't have pushed things."

"Everyone's allowed to freak out," Oliver shrugged, "I'm glad you brought it up. It's... it's probably good to talk about it."

"Yeah." Penelope agreed.

"I know I'm difficult," Oliver said evenly, "I know that I talk far too much about Quidditch and I'm a bit of a git, but..."

"But I'm practically a cat woman, sans cat," Penelope interjected, "who can't face reapplying for my job at the Ministry and is instead pretending to love working at a quill shop. I'm a recluse whose only friend is her persistently friendly ex-boyfriend."

"I'm a Quidditch player who successfully ostracised all of his Hogwarts friends before realising that Quidditch isn't actually the only reason for existing."

"I ostracised all my friends because I can't deal with grief," Penelope shrugged, "Oliver Wood, I think we're made for each other."

"Very possible," Oliver grinned, "I don't think anyone else would put up with me."

"Don't get all self deprecating now," Penelope said, "I'm entirely sure that's my job."

"So, are we good?" Oliver asked, looking at her seriously and raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Penelope nodded, "I think we're very good."

"Pudding?" Oliver suggested, grinning at Penelope's expression. Penelope rolled her eyes, reached forward and took hold of Oliver's hand – neither of them were the most emotionally open people, it seemed, and she was entirely satisfied with the fact that they'd at least broached the emotional issues that were quietly clearly fairly rooted within both of them. It had been a short conversation, had mostly still been quite jokey and chatty, but it opened up the floor to a whole host of other conversations - it made her think that, perhaps, they were capable of sitting squashed up on a sofa and talking about childhood misendeavours that scared them for life and what not. That was enough, really.

She was a firm believer that emotional conversations, like sex, should just happen rather than being planned. She'd never understood the whole idea about setting the conversations and situations up, because it only made both parties more awkward (applicable to both sex and emotional conversations) but her minor freak out had driven her sanity (?) clean out of her brain for a good few hours. But, no, they were fine. They were good. They were actually an actual couple.

And it was very good.

And they were going to have pudding.

"Oliver's coming over to watch Doctor Who, if that's okay." Penelope told Audrey as she entered the flat feeling much more cheerful than when she'd left it. In fact, she was practically brimming and overflowing with unmarred joy – they'd talked about Quidditch and quills over pudding, which had served to ease the post-emotional-chat tension and then, after lunch, they'd gone for a walk (except neither of them had called it a walk, because _going for a walk_was one of those things that strange, romantic couples did – not borderline dysfunctional couples) and ended up talking about past relationships. It had been a short conversation due to the fact that Oliver had successfully managed to ruin all his relationships by being a Quidditch obsessed dolt and Penelope had only really dated Percy. But, still, it felt like they were finally breaching the gap of honesty and stepping forwards into the realms of something a little _deeper._

So, happy in the fact that her cyberman classification was all wrong, she'd decided to let Oliver Wood into the deepest chamber of her heart... she was going to introduce him to _Doctor Who._

"Cute," Audrey commented with a wide smile, "sorted it out then?"

Penelope realised with a satisfied jolt that she'd actually done something rather positive in terms of relationship building. Really, she thought she hadn't handled it too terribly at all. She'd jumped the metaphorical gun by forcing the topic of conversation onto the table, but given that Oliver was so easy going (except when it came to Quidditch, when he was tight lipped, unforgiving and obsessive) it hadn't been too much of an issue. In general Oliver was the king of contradictions that Penelope was beginning to get quite used to (something which made her very happy indeed) – she liked the fact that some things made Oliver jealous and some didn't, and she liked beginning to work out the reasoning behind both reactions, and she liked the way Oliver would curl his hand around her hip as he kissed her. Actually, in general Penelope Clearwater just really liked Oliver Wood and that was all there was too it.

"So much emotionally draining conversation I'm barely standing," Penelope returned, "I'll write to Percy -"

"Why don't you just call him?" Audrey questioned, giving her a slightly peculiar look – as she always did when Penelope forgot about that unapproachable distance between being a muggleborn witch and being an actual muggle. Penelope had considered telling Audrey the truth about the whole magic thing, given it would make certain things much easier to explain, but she suspected her anti social tendency had something to do with her silence.

"Do you... have his number?" Penelope asked, beginning to feel a distinct feeling that she was about to be presented with excellent blackmail material for a good solid year.

"Yes." Audrey said, sending her a questioning look.

So, it seemed Percy had brought a muggle phone for the purpose of getting Audrey's number – which was so invariably cute and Percy-esque that Penelope had to hide her smile slightly. Of course, Audrey might be slightly weirded out if she found she was the only name on Percy's contact list which made it all the more tempting to tell her. Penelope resisted purely because since the rather obvious fact that Percy was smitten with her muggle flatmate had crossed her mind, she'd already planned their wedding several times over. Of course, she didn't particularly want Percy over at her flat all the time (he was over enough as it was, interfering git), but the idea of Percy and Audrey as a couple was beginning to sound more and more like a really good idea.

"Oh, could I borrow your phone then? Mine's flat. Just for the number." She continued, forcing herself not to burst out into maniacal laughter – she could save that for when Oliver came over and she related the whole ordeal to him. He'd love it. During the credits of Doctor Who, of course, because she wasn't about to be distracted from the beautiful show by something so unimportant as her boyfriend.

By the one of surprise in Percy's voice, it was evident that Percy was obviously not expecting to be called.

"Hello Percy," Penelope grinned, "I've just been chatting to Audrey..."

There was so much wonderful potential in this, she almost felt like being sociable for once.

Percy went silent down the other end of the phone and Penelope pressed the phone against her neck as the doorbell ring and Audrey reappeared to buzz Oliver in. "I'll leave you to it, then." Audrey said cheerfully, disappearing back into her room.

"So," Penelope continued as Oliver pushed open the door, offering him a smile, "she was just saying how you'd given her your number..." Oliver sent her a questioning look. Penelope raised her eyebrows, "anyway, just thought I'd let you know, Perce, that you're embarrassingly obvious."

"Penelope –" Percy began.

"Maybe we could double date?" Penelope suggested, slamming the phone down in victory and grinning at her boyfriend, one Oliver Wood. "This is going to be so great." Penelope grinned, stepping forwards and planting a triumphant kiss on Oliver Wood's lips.

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_I'm excited and a little bit shocked about the response from this story on here! One more chapter to go, completed on HPFF but it shouldn't take too long for me to upload the next chapter on here to be honest. Thanks for the pretty reviews :D_


	5. The TARDIS

For Oliver Wood, there was no feeling quite like riding a broom: well, it was more than just _riding a broom, _because it was sport and flying and feeling alive and feeling that you were good at something and _knowing what you were. _But it was also riding around on a broomstick, and currently – because he was slightly drunk and slightly distracted – the usual impassioned determination and the instinct of flying wasn't cooperating at its usual top gear. And so Oliver Wood wasn't riding on a broomstick so much as falling off a broomstick and heading, rather quickly, towards the floor.

Despite making it his day job to defeat gravity, it seemed combined alcohol and the oddly distracting Penelope Clearwater was making it easier for gravity to win the war.

It had been this bloody Hogwarts reunion type thing that he'd ended up attending. He suspected it was Katie who'd mentioned it to him a disproportionate number of times compared to what it qualified (given she hadn't even turned up, after all), and the Quidditch card didn't work very well when she knew full well when every match and training sessions were thanks to her new internship at some Quidditch magazine that he'd barely heard of (and given he was Oliver bloody Wood, that was quite impressive for a magazine to be so low key that even he hadn't heard of it). Someone's birthday, apparently.

Then, thanks to his rather pompous ex-roommate, he'd been pushed at the said roommates ex-girlfriend (bit bloody awkward, that) because she seemed to be just as disinclined to socialise with anyone as he did. Then again, she'd seemed pretty damn chatty when they started talking and, three hours later, he'd realised that she'd actually driven him to feeling sociable. It hadn't been his exact intention to start flirting with her, but there was nothing unusual in that – really, he wasn't bad at flirting when he was so inclined, it was just that most of the time he wasn't. There were other things to consider. Quidditch, for example.

And now he was falling off his broomstick and beginning to realise that he didn't want to be there: not wanting to be falling from a great height was a given, but he didn't want to be flying either. For once, he wanted to shove the broom back in the broom cupboard and buy Penelope Clearwater another drink. Ask her out for dinner, or something (Percy permitting; should Oliver ask permission? Was that the social etiquette for these things?).

Then Oliver Wood hit the floor and it hurt quite a lot. Too much for him to think any more about Penelope, Penny as she'd suggested, until… of course, he woke up in St Mungo's and realised he'd accidentally stood her up. She wouldn't like that.

He'd just about worked out that girls didn't like being stood up or standing around outside Quidditch practice for hours as Oliver tried to just _perfect his left-armed save. _He gave it up as a nice idea: a lost cause, a bit annoying but not exactly unsurprising, not quite as important as the rant exploding from his Captain's lips as he prattled on, quite correctly, about how Oliver was an idiot and how you should never _drink and fly. _

Briefly, perhaps for a split second, Oliver considered Penelope's pretty, round face and thought _right on, captain._

Penelope Clearwater was itching for her shift to be over. This wasn't a particularly foreign feeling, because she worked in a Quill shop. As much as Penelope actually quite like quills and stationary in general (in fact, she had a growing collection of different types of ink which she found rather exciting that Percy had informed her was so boring he'd stopped listening… and coming from _Percy_ she'd had to take a step back and re-evaluate her life), spending eight hours trying to sell expensive quills to people who just wanted to write shopping lists had this tendency to get a bit dry.

"Excited for your holiday?" Mr Frobisher asked her; he was some great-great-nephew of the original Mr Scrivenshaft who seemed to be okay with working in the same shop he'd worked in when he was fourteen.

Penny thought that Mr Scrivenshaft must have been quite the productive fellow, because every day there seemed to be a different member of the extensive Scrivenshaft bloodline working. In the summer a whole host of younger relatives had helped out with the so-called 'busy season' (Penny thought that was rubbish, hot weather did not equate to a mad dash on quills but still…). Sometimes Penny thought she was the only one not distantly related to the pen-loving-fellow who worked there and, if Oliver had his way, it would come soon return to being an entirely exclusive environment.

"Hmmm." Penelope agreed, because she found Mr A Frobisher one of the least agreeable to spend the day with, particularly because he had this annoying habit of continually enquiring into her life and silently judging her when she had nothing further to add.

"Will I be meeting the infamous Oliver Wood?"

"Suppose." Penelope conceded.

"Lost his last match."

"Yeah." Penelope said, vaguely remembering how awful he'd been for the following week. In fact, he'd been solidly absent for the first three days post-failure until Penelope had turned up at his flat, broken in (well, she'd used alohomora charm) and demanded that they went out for dinner. He'd then barely eaten whilst Penelope continually chatted about the customers they'd had at the shop until Oliver had gotten so fed up of her talking he'd told her to shut up. Apparently, his usual default mode post-failure was to lock himself away from society for a period of time until he was 'fit for humanity' again, when it was less likely for him to start yelling Quidditch related expletives at random passers-by… and they'd had to have a rather stiff conversation where Penelope had tried to convince him that she could definitely cope with being more of an idiot than usual and Oliver had declared that he wasn't worth her effort.

Then she'd had to tell him to stop acting like a melodramatic teenager.

"When's the next?"

"Saturday after next."

"You got tickets?"

"Yeah." Penelope returned. Apparently, she had become a WAG. She wasn't sure when she had become a WAG, but… last time she hadn't attended a game (she'd been in a very bad mood and had refused to get up at stupid O'Clock) it had been printed in several Quidditch magazines that they'd had a vicious breakup involving a case of minor assault – from her, actually, apparently she'd thrown a carrot at him and it had ruined his left-armed save.

Oliver had gotten very angry about the article. He said there was nothing wrong with his left-armed save.

"Got any spares?"

"No," Penelope said, leaning over the counter, "they don't do that."

They did that. She wasn't wasting free tickets on her irritating work colleague. It was bad enough that Percy was nagging her about getting him and Audrey tickets, when he finally dropped the _I'm a magician _bombshell. About time, too. It would be nice to use magic to cook pasta again. Boiling water via a kettle required much more patience than Penelope naturally possessed.

"Where is you're going again?"

"Spain." Penelope sighed, pressing her fingernails into her forehead and thinking this was enough reason for anyone to resign themselves to being a social recluse for the rest of eternity. "Oliver has been invited to meet a member of the international team, so we're going to Spain."

Really, that was stretching the truth. A Spanish international player had written him a letter saying he'd like to meet, apparently this thing happened all the time, but Penelope had been in a particularly _carpe diem_ mood and had declared that he should definitely go. This had sparked an increasingly more ridiculous conversation which had concluded in them planning a round-the-world-trip… which, after the initial planning excitement, had been diluted to a week in Spain.

"Bet you're excited."

"Hmm." Penelope said, feeling like the conversation had just turned circular and that definitely wasn't a good thing. Penelope glanced at her watch again, resisting the sigh as she shifted her position and started reorganising the range of pencils they'd just ordered in for the sake of looking busy. Five minutes, if Oliver was on time. Which… might happen.

"He's here!"

"Oh, hey," Penelope said, looking up to see her Oliver Wood pushing open the door of the shop and walking across the floor, "early?"

"Wanted to see your new supply of pencils," Oliver commented, "couldn't resist."

"I'll bet," Penny said, stepping forwards to greet him with a kiss, "they've been quite the focal point."

"Point?" Oliver said. "How sharp of you."

"Funny," Penelope said approvingly, letting him wrap his arms around her and grinning, "good day?"

"Percy was at the flat this morning."

"_Really_?"

"I walked into him when I was coming out the shower," Oliver said, looking distinctly amused, "he was a bit flustered; I don't think he was expecting me to be there."

"I certainly wasn't expecting him to be there," Penelope grinned, "crap, Percy stayed the night. Anyway, Oliver, my shift hasn't finished yet; can I interest you in a quill?"

"Always," Oliver said, "got any feather quills with particularly fine nibs and a finely balanced core?"

"No," Penelope said flatly, "they're not brooms, they don't have balanced cores."

"I guess I could let you off early," Mr A Frobisher said as if he was offering her a great treat, "as you're going on holiday."

"Thanks for letting me take her." Oliver said, offering him one of his best attempts at a smile. Penny rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag from the back room, swinging it over her shoulder and taking her boyfriend's hand. Oliver suited being surly much more than he did his fake smiles.

"I think you just saved my life," Penelope said dryly, "he wouldn't stop talking."

"I know that feeling."

"Oi, I'm antisocial remember."

"Right," Oliver said, "so why was it you wanted to delay our holiday to show up to this… school reunion thing?"

"To show off my Quidditch Star boyfriend," Penelope said cheerfully, "he's a bit annoying, but last time I made a bit of a fool of myself by not talking to anyone, so it'd be nice to have some arm candy."

"Makes a change, you WAG you."

"I'm not a WAG."

"Pen," Oliver said, smirking, "no one even knew what a WAG was until you freaked out about being one."

"Audrey did." Penelope said primly.

"Yes, well, Audrey is a muggle. And she didn't think you were a WAG… and even if she did, you've got to question some of Audrey's recent decisions."

"Hey," Penelope said, raising her eyebrows slightly, "I went there too once, remember?"

"I already had quite severe doubts about your judgement, Pen. Now, no doubt you're going to spend an obscene amount of time getting ready, so we might as well head back."

"My dress is at your flat," Penny said, hooking her arms through Oliver's, "which means I don't get to question Audrey about Percy staying over, _damnit_."

"A Time Lord?" Oliver said, staring at the screen feeling slightly baffled. "A lord… of time."

"No," Penelope said impatiently, "well, yes, but not like a _Lord and Lady_, Lord… Time Lord is like a species."

"A species?" Oliver questioned, squinting at his girlfriend slightly and resisting the desire to laugh; Penelope had a tendency towards the ridiculous at times, in particular how adamant she was that she was not afraid of spiders and was in fact simply 'weary' – "like vampires?"

"No, Oliver," Penelope said, "not like that. Because you can become a Vampire. It's a species like a horse is a species."

"But with the right spell you can become a horse?"

"I think you're missing the point." Penelope said pointedly, leaning forwards and pausing the DVD (although Oliver had learnt about the things in Muggle Studies, he'd never actually watched one and it was all together quite strange).

"What about a species," Oliver began, "like muggles are a species and wizards and witches are a species?" Oliver suggested, only he whispered the last half off his sentence in Penelope's ear because Audrey was next door.

"No, they're alien."

"Alien?"

"Like the green Martians that live on the moon. Oliver, come on, aliens. And the Doctor has two hearts."

"Right," Oliver said, squashing up next to Penelope a little more on the sofa, "because that makes a lot of sense."

Penelope sent him a dirty look – the irritated sort of dirty, rather than anything else – and crossed her arms.

She didn't quite forgive him until he declared that the Cybermen were positively terrifying creatures. And his approvable of the Darleks meant he was more than in the clear on that front.

Penelope was stood in front of the mirror holding her hair up as she waited for Oliver to hurry up and zip up her dress already. Apparently, she'd put on weight so now the zip wouldn't come up as easily as it used to and Oliver was calmly suggesting that she just enlarge it slightly and that had, obviously, caused Penelope to feel a bit miffed and make a point about how she didn't highlight the fact that his left-armed save was slightly lacking and so he shouldn't essentially call her fat.

"If you won't enlarge it you'll have to do the zip up yourself," Oliver said firmly, sending a slightly offended look to his left arm – as though it had let him down for something very important. "I'm not breaking your dress by forcing it."

"It doesn't need forcing!" Penelope said through gritted teeth, stretching one arm behind her back in an attempt to fasten the damnable thing. "You're just so incompetent with your left arm that you can't do a zip!"

Oliver rolled his eyes, pulled out his wand and enlarged the dress.

"Now it barely stays up!" Penny exclaimed, whirling round to face her boyfriend, holding the vast material of the dress up with one hand to preserve a degree of dignity – not that it made much difference, given this was Oliver, but there it was.

"Exactly," Oliver said, "so now you have the satisfaction of shrinking it to size and thinking about how fat you're really not."

"Yay." Penelope commented under her breath. "I'm not fat." She added.

"I know." Oliver returned, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Maybe I'm pregnant."

"You're not pregnant."

"I could be." Penelope said.

"You're not pregnant; you're just getting weirdly nervous and obsessive because you're worried about this reunion thing even though I was all for not going."

"Okay." Penelope said, shrugging her shoulders slightly because that seemed like a fair description of her current mental state, given the fact that she was currently wearing mismatching shoes trying to work out which were most event-appropriate and beginning to wonder how she even had enough pairs of shoes to have some packed for holiday and still have three pairs of them at Oliver's.

"For the record, you looked nice – before the dress became a tent, I mean – and you're going to be fine. Then, after the bloody things done we can ride off into the sunset and spend a week in Spain recovering from our shame. After we embarrass ourselves utterly, of course."

"Thank you." Penelope said, resisting the urge to pick up a nervous habit like biting her nails.

"Were you this bad before the last one?"

"Don't think so."

"Is it the WAG thing?"

"Quite possible. You know, Oliver, I think Audrey might show up as Percy's plus one."

"Really?" Oliver asked.

"You know what Percy's like. He likes things to be proper. So, if he stayed then night well… he wouldn't have done that unless he'd told Audrey about magic. And he wouldn't have done that unless there was a good reason for it. So, I should think that he's in love with her and that she'll be coming to the reunion tonight. In which case, no one will be paying attention to us, right?"

"Right. Pen," Oliver said, bringing a hand up to his forehead and frowning slightly, "didn't you have that dress packed for the holiday, anyway?"

"I… rearranged our suitcases." Penelope admitted, turning to face her reflection and beginning to shrink her dress, deciding that her life had been much much easier when she'd just been a lonely social recluse.

Then again, a nice romantic holiday with her boyfriend provided a fair counterargument.

Olive was quite confused over the excessive interest in the fact that he'd taken Penelope along to a Quidditch match whilst he was deemed unfit to play (not, irritatingly enough, because he was remotely injured but because was currently _disgraced)_, as though if you factored out Quidditch there was a chance for an actual life to come slipping through the void (the chasm, as Penelope called it when Oliver voiced this thought). His teammates had made quite a few comments about this.

The largely male environment (with a side order of two females; one beater who seemed to inadvertently defy all stereotypes by batting around a great bleeding bludger without chipping her manicured nails and a fiery chaser who lived and breathed feminism) was a pressure cooker for brash comments and, as a result, he suspected Penelope Clearwater's supposed morality and morals had been dug through the metaphorical mud more since they're date than it had ever been before. Although he would certainly not be repeating any of the comments to Penny, they didn't exactly bother him as he was used to the familiar talk and almost, well, not flattered… but there was something strangely nice about the fact that he was drawn into these conversations for once, but Rebecca Jacobs had looked shockingly personally and morally offended when he hadn't immediately told them to shut up about his… girlfriend? (Did three dates, as it had now been, count as dating?).

Still, it wasn't just inside the locker room. His Mum had, predictably, wanted to meet this infamous Penelope (which was ridiculous, Oliver very much doubted they'd ever get to _that point) _and then he'd had George on it him about it, and then Katie and the others… and, really, it seemed like Penelope Clearwater had re-sparked up all his social relationships to an absurd degree, as well as being really quite lovely and pleasant and all the other things you might look for in a woman.

Oliver was almost glad about the whole Quidditch incident. Quidditch was a glorious passion and the most important thing in Oliver's life, but by its very nature it seemed to eat away at everything else in his life: he could train until his muscles were screaming in protest, he could stay up for days on end planning plays and dreaming about just being able to play Quidditch forever and ever. But, there were other things that were good in life. Things that were difficult to arrange about Quidditch, sometimes, and the fact that Oliver was in the middle of a temporary hiatus meant that there was enough time to fall into a nice relationship (if Penny was willing, of course) before she had to deal with the irritation of the ever present training sessions and the continual matches and everything else like that.

In the end, relationships were all about timing. And Oliver wasn't very good at this timing lark. Before anyone had a chance to become importance enough for him to rejuggle Quidditch, they'd been scared off by Quidditch: thus an ever perpetuating cycle of being a bit single and not quite lonely. And there was this small chance that, this time, the timing might be on his side.

They'd been at the party for about approximately three seconds when Penelope saw a flash of orange moving towards her that she strongly suspected didn't belong to Percy. Sure enough, within a minute, she was face to face with George Weasley who seemed to find the whole concept of her relationship with Oliver immensely funny.

George then preceded them to ask them a vast amount of awkward questions which Oliver seemed to handle quite well, but Penelope handled very poorly, before Percy turned up with a very happy but slightly nervous looking Audrey and it seemed they were no longer the most amusing couple and were left alone. At least, until Oliver's Quidditch mates – Katie, was it? – approached and started teasing Oliver and chumming up with Penelope asking her questions like _does he dream about missing Quaffles, Penny? _and other slightly more personal slightly more laugh-inducing questions.

They were then pulled away from the direction of the bar, which is where they'd been headed before the first interception, and towards Harry Potter.

"Now Oliver," Penelope muttered as Angelina dragged them over, "don't get too star struck, he's just your old seeker remember."

And after Oliver had rather abruptly asked Harry whether he'd gotten much chance to ride recently (he was feeling a bit nervous, it seemed), then George had returned and wrapped an arm around Angelina (Penelope would have to gossip to Oliver and or Percy about _that _later) and then others seemed to appear out of the woodwork: Ron Weasley and Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and Alicia Spinnet.

"It's almost like a reunion." George said, cheerfully, and suddenly Penelope wanted to run away and cry because the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team was here (with a few plus ones), except it wasn't because they were a beater down and it was the most horrific and poignant moment she'd ever suffered through.

Thirty minutes into the night, Oliver rescued her from where she was drinking red wine alone at the bar.

Oliver Wood had gotten very used to having Penelope Clearwater in his life. In fact, they were teetering on the brink of her absence, should it occur, being utterly miserable – heart break was a bit of a farfetched assessment, maybe, but he'd definitely need quite a few weeks of sulking and would consider quite a few Quidditch-related compromises to cement her presence in his life.

As it stood, both of them had become really quite comfortable with their new relationship status and Oliver couldn't quite picture the whole thing coming crashing towards ruin any time soon. It was just nice to wake up with a Penelope sized lump next to him in his bed (or, over at her place depending on a multitude of factors which they'd discussed at length) and to be able to eat breakfast with someone. He liked rambling on about Quidditch and not being judged for it. He liked Penelope's wit and her bluntness about things. He just liked Penelope.

And currently, he was watching her make the walk from his bed to the bathroom waiting for the eventual backlash of his brashness.

"Oliver," Penelope said, pausing at the entrance to Oliver's bedroom with her hand on her hip, "why, exactly, is there an application form for the Ministry of Magic spellotaped to your bedroom door?"

"Well," Oliver said, sitting up in his bed and raising his eyebrows slightly, "you're reasoning for not reapplying for your old Ministry position was that they weren't advertising."

"So you put up your own advertisement?" Penelope said, pulling the application form rather viciously and turning around to face him. "In your bedroom."

"Look, Pen," Oliver said, sitting up completely, "if you like your job, then that's fine but I just don't buy the _oh look how much I love quills _lark! Now, I know you probably think I have no right to butt in, but I think I do so… I think you should apply for a job."

"As a pencil pusher?"

"That's literally what you do right now, Penny; you push pencils at people."

"No," Penny muttered distractedly, "we don't sell pencils, we're thinking about getting some in but we haven't made a decision yet."

"Penny."

"Okay," Penelope said, tossing the application on the bed and leaning forwards and giving Oliver a kiss, "I'll think about it."

"That," Oliver said, "was brutal."

"I feel like I've been bludgeoned with a bludger."

"Been forced backwards through the time vortex."

"Fallen off a broom."

"Been poked in the eye with a quill."

"It really hurts when you do that," Penelope said with an exhausted sigh, "we should have skipped the party and gone on holiday early." Oliver shrugged slightly. "You're glad we went?" Penelope asked, threading her elbow through his.

"I've never had a WAG to show off before," Oliver said, with a short grin, "I suppose I like remembering Hogwarts days. Reminiscing, it's nice; there was a lot of Quidditch."

"Lots of studying."

"For nothing," Oliver added, "as you're not even abusing your qualifications."

"Lots of people," Penny added, pointedly ignoring his comment, "you forget how many people there were. Still, there were good bits. Silence in the library, for example."

"Right," Oliver grinned, "now, what's say we get the hell out of this country, away from all this reminiscing, and go on a really bloody nice holiday to Spain?"

"You know you've just cursed it." Penny smiled, reaching up and kissing Oliver's cheek.

"You okay?" Oliver asked gruffly, facing her with the serious determined expression that Penny usually associated with Quidditch.

They'd just had possibly the most hyper-emotional conversation that Penelope had ever blagged her way through and now she was feeling oddly like throwing her arms around her boyfriend's neck or chucking him out of her bed so she could bury her face in her pillow and cry like a teenage girl. She couldn't even pin down how it had gotten so emotional and intense: she'd just been talking about her parents and it wasn't like there was anything scarring or horrible that had happen to her parents, they were lovely and she visited them at least four times a year and they were always pleasant and loving, but one second she'd mentioned how worried she was when she scarpered during the war and the next she'd been crying.

Then there'd been this bizarre thirteen minutes when she'd been pressed against Oliver's bare chest (this whole thing had occurred when neither of them could sleep, after all) whimpering and muttering incomprehensible things that even she couldn't understand. Then, as quickly as the emotional insanity had occurred it was gone and Penelope was blinking her dry eyes and wondering what the hell was happening to her.

"Uhh, maybe," Penelope eventually replied, sitting up in bed and pulling the cover around her, "I don't know where that came from."

Oliver shrugged in his easy _not a problem _sort of way, Penelope scrunched her shoulders up and they were both silent for quite a few minutes.

"If you had a TARDIS," Oliver said, shifting himself so that he was sat upright with his back against the headboard, "where would you go?"

"Are you trying to distract me?" Penelope asked as she turned and sent a pleased smile towards her boyfriend.

"I believe I am," Oliver said, "so, you've got a TARDIS. Anywhere, anytime, anyplace; where, Penelope Clearwater, are you taking me."

"Are you the companion?" Penny grinned. "My brains too frazzled, but, the creation of the earth would be nice. No, the founders – I'd like to see how Hogwarts was built. But, what about you, Oliver? Where am I taking you?"

Oliver thought about this for quite a few moments. Overall, he thought he was pretty damn content right where he was: Penelope would no doubt say that he lacked imagination and ambition (both of which were definitely fair and true), but as much as Oliver found the episodes of Doctor Who he'd sat through interesting, he'd never hold much in stall for wishing for fanciful things that wouldn't happen, nor did he particularly find history or travelling particularly interesting.

"I'd travel back along our timeline a bit," Oliver said finally, "watch a couple of things over, jump around and see what happens before and after. See what you were doing and things."

"That's a very Gryffindor answer," Penelope said, resting her head on his shoulder for a second, "entirely well meaning, but utterly ludicrous – do you know nothing about time travel? It's not like you're in a pensive."

"I'm talking about an internal mind TARDIS of memories and perspective."

"Now it's beginning to sound like the narrative structure of a novel." Penelope said, the exhaustion of her wild emotional outburst beginning to weigh down her eyelids.

"Hardly a novel," Oliver said, watching feeling slightly amused as Penelope's head rolled to the side as she drifted off for a second, before she jerked her head back upwards again, "more like a short story."

Still, there was plenty of time to change that.

* * *

_Hey there everyone! So, this the end and I finished another story! I actually can't believe it. As always, I don't own Doctor Who, or TARDIS's (although if I owned one I'd be soooo happy) or any of the other Doctor Who reference. They're the BBCs. Also, I didn't expect the end to turn out quite so cheesy. AND this was originally written for Ariellem's birthday because, well, she got me shipping Penny/Oliver through her wonderful stories – so this story is entirely written for her and my own sense of funsies, really. Thanks for reviewing, guys! Reviews are always appreciated. Also, special thanks to Griffin Blackwood for reviewing every chapter! Thanks, it's really been lovely to have a regular review for this even though this isn't really my fanfiction home. Thank you! :)_


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